


Dictates of Conscience

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Picard
Genre: 2385, M/M, Starfleet Spouse Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Starfleet fails to live up to Julian's expectations for the final time.(DS9 characters in the 2385 Picard universe.)
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 46
Kudos: 269





	Dictates of Conscience

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot imagine Julian Bashir being even remotely okay with Starfleet's decision to abandon the Romulans, and thus this fic was born.

Starfleet had failed to live up to Julian’s expectations once more, and on such a scale Garak was not certain the situation could be salvaged. When Julian arrived home that evening pensive instead of outraged, all of Garak’s suspicions were confirmed.

“They’ve given up on the rescue mission,” Julian said. “We’re just going to let nearly a billion Romulans die without even trying to save a single one.”

“I’ve heard,” replied Garak. “And banned all synthetics, as well.”

Garak did not object in principle to the latter point. Not because he believed for a moment that the synthetics on Mars had a fatal code error, but because the catastrophe proved his longstanding concern that such machines were vulnerable to hijacking. Starfleet turned to android labor after the heavy personnel losses of the Dominion War, which would have been a practical choice if they had bothered to take more aggressive security measures. He could have told them it was only a matter of time before someone exploited the synthetics in exactly this way.

“Without the Romulans we would all be Dominion slaves, or dead.” Ah, there was Julian’s deeply felt passion making itself known in his words. Garak felt better for hearing it. “How can we just abandon them?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think the Romulans would trouble themselves over rescuing humans if the situation were reversed.”

“It really doesn’t.”

Garak hadn’t thought it would, though he personally found the thought exercise compelling. The détente between the Federation and the Romulan Empire grew uneasy soon after the defeat of their common enemy and had not improved since. 

“Admiral Picard resigned in protest,” added Julian.

“Last I saw, he made no public statement regarding the reason for his departure,” said Garak, purely for the sake of argument. “He has, I believe, none too recently reached what humans consider retirement age.”

“Admirals don’t retire suddenly, as you know full well. They give advance notice. Then there are parties, tributes, and at Picard’s fame, a career retrospective on the Federation News Service. Don’t try to tell me you trust coincidences now.”

Garak did not. He didn’t believe Picard’s abrupt departure from Starfleet lacked a relationship to the cancellation of his rescue mission, nor that synthetics just so happened to have a code error which prevented Starfleet from saving Romulans.

He did find Julian’s willingness to quibble encouraging. He’d learned over the years that it was a cause for serious concern when Julian didn’t bother to argue for his beliefs.

“One does wonder what led to the admiral’s retirement,” he conceded.

Julian was silent for too long. Garak finally resorted to prompting him by remarking, “I have not developed telepathy, my dear. If there is something you wish to tell me, you’ll have to say the words.”

“I’m thinking about resigning myself.”

Garak couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. Starfleet had undoubtedly changed since Julian initially joined. In Garak’s opinion, the Dominion War marked the beginning of a slow slide into self-preservation over exploration and compassion, two values his husband held most dear, and Julian had been watching with dismay for a decade now. He disapproved of the paltry aid given to Cardassia after the war – not that it mattered, as within a year Cardassia returned to authoritarianism and pointedly rejected Federation overtures as a matter of pride. (In the Federation Garak escaped anti-Cardassian sentiment only by dint of being an exception, the man who tried to usher in reformation and barely escaped with his life for his efforts.)

Then there was that unfortunate business with the Tzenkethi where a paranoid and racist lieutenant commander managed to set Federation-Tzenkethi relations back twenty years and Starfleet hardly seemed to care, followed by what Julian deemed insufficient compassion for races forced under the Dominion’s heel in the Gamma Quadrant, which Starfleet explored mostly in self-defense – another point of contention. Starfleet Medical had not been generous in its research aid on five separate occasions, to Julian’s growing displeasure. Not to mention, when Chancellor Martok asked Julian to investigate a medical mystery last year, Julian was very nearly forced to use personal leave for his time on Qo’noS since Martok hadn’t gone through official channels.

And, of course, Julian still remained angry about Section 31’s continued existence. Garak believed Karys likely saved Julian’s life in this regard. When taking a few days’ leave on Bajor to contemplate his future, Julian had encountered a feisty orphan who was a misfit as much for being an outspoken nine-year-old atheist as half-Cardassian, and by the time Garak returned to Deep Space Nine, Julian was a father. If it hadn’t been for Karys giving Julian a new direction in life, he probably would’ve pursued his vendetta against Section 31 and… well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

No, talk of Julian’s resignation wasn’t a surprise in the least.

“How can I stay and be part of this, Elim?”

“Should I take that to mean you have no hope of effecting change from within?” He was certain it did. Still, it was always wise to confirm such things.

Julian flopped his head back on the couch to look at the ceiling. He tended to do that when emotionally or mentally exhausted, and even after all these years Garak had yet to figure out why. He could have asked, but where would be the fun in that?

“Believe me, I’ve spent all day thinking about that very question. If everyone who feels the way I do leaves, are we ceding Starfleet to the very people who’ve lost sight of who we should be? I’ve concluded that if Jean-Luc Picard can’t effect change, there’s little to no chance for anyone else to succeed.”

He was probably right. All the same, Garak found it unsettling to see Julian so hopeless.

“I belonged to Picard’s Starfleet. Not this new Starfleet focused only on self-defense to the point of isolationism and heartlessness.” Julian said the words with such sorrow that Garak felt compelled to reach for his hand.

There was yet something else to be mentioned. “And you are concerned that one day Starfleet’s newfound fear of the other will be turned on you.”

“Yes,” Julian answered after a long pause. “There is that, as well.”

“Then I ask that you wait a week. One week, Julian. If after that time you still feel the same, you will as always have my unending support.” Garak considered it part of his marital duty to check Julian’s rashest impulses. With time and fatherhood those were rarer than they used to be, and in truth Garak would have missed them greatly if they disappeared altogether. All the same, he had no desire to deal with Julian’s regret if he acted too soon on his first emotional response to Starfleet’s latest decision.

“I won’t change my mind,” said Julian.

“Then in one week you will submit your resignation, and in the meantime, we can consider what the next stage in our life might look like. I assume we would not remain here.” Garak hoped he could successfully lobby for someplace a bit warmer. Starbase 198 was no warmer than Deep Space Nine had been, and he was thoroughly tired of being forced to wear thermal undergarments every time he wanted to leave their quarters.

Julian scooted over so they were leaning together on the couch. “No. I’d say we could look into Lagalia, but…”

“Karys will choose another university if we attempt to follow her there,” finished Garak. She was a strong-willed young woman, to be sure. Stubborn enough to eschew the renowned archaeology program at the University of New Toronto if she felt her parents were overstepping. Garak remained convinced that part of what originally drew Julian to Karys was a recognition of mutual determination. It had made her early teenage years quite challenging.

“No doubt with some dramatic speech. Which she learned from you, by the way.”

It was Garak’s honor to adopt Karys after he married Julian, but he had never deluded himself into thinking the bond he forged with her was equal to hers with Julian. She loved Garak, and they shared Cardassian heritage in a way which made Julian the outsider, but Julian was the father who adopted her from that orphanage and showered her with parental love for the first time in her life.

Or perhaps Garak simply wasn’t very good at expressing paternal love.

Regardless, she was his daughter, with all the devotion that entailed, and he had been a major influence on her. It was probable his flair for theatrics had inspired hers.

“You are not without your own talents in that regard,” said Garak.

“Maybe not, but next to you I’m a rank amateur.”

“There’s always time to improve.”

That got an amused grin from Julian, which had been Garak’s goal. It only lasted a moment before Julian once again grew serious. “There’s a new institute for medical research opening up on Meza IV. I might apply for a position there.”

“My dear, I hate to question your career plans-”

“No, you don’t.”

“-but you grow frustrated if you spend all of your time researching and none treating patients.” Garak preferred not to have a husband deprived of his caregiving opportunities, which experience taught them led to general dissatisfaction in the household.

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of this institute. They also want to see some of the Federation’s most vexing cases.”

In that case, it did sound like an excellent fit for Julian. “By any chance is this new venture located in at least a temperate climate?” There had been days where Garak envied Karys and her much closer to Bajoran tolerance for cold, and Garak would prefer those days be behind him if they were moving.

“Of course. I wouldn’t consider going anywhere cold,” Julian promised. “And I’ll try not to complain too much about the heat in the summer.”

“I will hold you to that.”

After a moment of silence, if not such a strained one as before, Julian sighs. “An empty nest and leaving Starfleet. Our lives are going to look very different.”

“I believe I’ll take this opportunity to make you new civilian clothes.” Garak was no longer a professional tailor. It was the career Tain gave him as punishment, and he decided that for all he was a very good tailor, he wasn’t particularly happy to be one. Since he married into a culture where one’s career pleasure mattered, he took the opportunity to pursue his interest in writing, and now only dabbled in clothing for himself, Julian, and Karys. The subject of Julian’s wardrobe remained an excellent source of material for seductive debate even after several years of marriage.

“I’d be shocked if you didn’t,” said Julian. “Elim, do you think I’m overreacting?”

“No,” he replied instantly. It would not to do to be anything but forthright here, lest Julian become mired in self-doubt. “I think Starfleet has drifted out of alignment with the values you hold most dear, and therefore it does not surprise me in the least that you can no longer in good conscience continue to serve.”

Garak knew a thing or two about misaligned values, but now wasn’t the time to bring his own experience into the conversation. There would be ample opportunities for that later.

“It’s been a long time coming.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Letting nine hundred million people die because we can’t be bothered to put in the effort to save even a fraction of them… how can they live with themselves?” asked Julian.

It was a rhetorical question. They lived with themselves because they faced an internal revolt if they expended more resources on Romulans, or because they could say they had tried, or perhaps because they’d never much cared about Romulans in the first place. Garak said none of these things. Nothing he could say would make Julian feel any better. Julian would have to grieve the loss of what he believed Starfleet to be – what it had been, in some versions of the truth – in his own time and way.

“It’s impossible to relocate everyone in time without the rescue fleet. I know that. We could save as many as fifty million. _Fifty million_ people we’re content to let die because it’s inconvenient. That’s not the Starfleet I joined.” Julian clenched his jaw before consciously forcing himself to relax it. “How would you feel if I spend a few months volunteering on a civilian ship ferrying children from Romulus?”

“Entirely unsurprised,” replied Garak. They were bringing Karys to the University of New Toronto in two weeks’ time, so he would be lonely while Julian tended to the medical needs of young refugees, but he would manage. “I’d miss you, of course, but would take solace in playing Taron’s symphonies as frequently and loudly as I like.”

“It’s good to know you’re capable of looking on the bright side,” said Julian wryly.

“On rare occasions, it has merit.”

“You won’t feel abandoned?”

“No,” replied Garak. He might not have trusted much in the universe. He did trust Julian to return – and he also knew his husband needed to do this in order to make peace with himself and his resignation.

That week began to sound like a formality.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” Julian said. “Sorry and mad as hell. But I’m not sorry for drawing my line in the sand.”

“You never are, my dear.” Garak found Julian’s moral strength admirable, if occasionally inconvenient. “And I am sorry Starfleet has disappointed you so terribly.”

“At least I’m in good company with Admiral Picard.”

If Julian took solace in not being the only Starfleet officer so appalled as to resign, so much the better. Garak, for his part, remembered when he’d hoped Julian would see the world as it was, not as he wished it to be, and decided perhaps there was something to the human warning about being careful what one wished for, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I, ahem, may have given myself Karys plot bunnies relating to her adoption. How cute would it be to have this precocious little girl the Bajorans on the station call Bashir Karys, and she corrects them every single time because she uses the same name order as her father, thank you very much?


End file.
